


Stories of the Second Self: Niche

by John_Steiner



Series: Alter Idem [137]
Category: Serial Killers - Fandom, Urban Fantasy - Fandom
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-13
Updated: 2020-02-13
Packaged: 2021-02-28 06:13:44
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,011
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22689058
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/John_Steiner/pseuds/John_Steiner
Summary: He was handsome, had a solid career, was gentlemanly on the surface, and he appeared too perfect to be real. That became Lillian's reason for following a man home without his knowledge. However, in the middle of her plan Lillian grows cold and short of breath. Collapsing at the edge of the man's yard, Lillian dies without apparent cause. She awakes later in a morgue and realizes that she is undead. However, Lillian still feels the urge to follow through with her original plan, and discovers why she is ideally suited to become a vampire in the age of Alter Idem.
Series: Alter Idem [137]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1618813





	Stories of the Second Self: Niche

Not long now, Lillian thought as she drove a dozen car lengths behind the man she followed all the way from his workplace. He fit everything Lillian needed him to, and so she chose him. So gentlemanly, so endearing, so nauseatingly courteous, Lillian just knew he had to be fake somehow.

Studying his turn signals and brake lights, as she had before, Lillian mentally placed herself in the route she'd taken several times before. She rehearsed everything she would say and do to where it was perfect. Though, her heart rate still rose on the man's last use of his brakes. He was home.

Lillian had parked a few houses away and watched, as he got out from his car. She scouted him out in a financial service; his silver-speckled dark brown hair that must've been as full as when he was half his current age. He kept himself fit, more or less. Though his teeth were a bit crooked, he exhibited good dental hygiene.

It had been time to find someone now, and while visiting the finance advisory he worked at, Lillian peeked at his workspace photos to see a teenage boy and a tween girl, but no signs of a wife. It didn't add up.

Once he was inside his house, Lillian then got out of her car. Walking toward his house, Lillian suddenly sensed her fingers and toes growing cold. Flexing her hand, Lillian kept going. She was committed now, and this had to be done. The gnawing wouldn't stop until then.

However, by the time she reached his yard her knees grew weak. This wasn't a feeling of exhilaration but something else. It was getting hard to breath, and Lillian struggled even to hold herself up on her hands and knees.

"Hey," Lillian heard a teen boy's voice, "Something's wrong with that lady over there!"

Lillian's vision was fading, but she heard the man kneeling down over her. "Hey, you alright? I'm going to call an ambulance."

"No, don't," Lillian gasped, fumbling at his hand to stop him from getting his phone out. "I just... need a...."

Just like that, her last breath left without an utterance.

When next Lillian woke it was in the dark, but not total darkness. Something covered her from head to toe, and in reaching for it, Lillian realized it was fabric that reminded her of hospital gowns.

Pulling the sheet free, Lillian sat up from a solid metal table and was stark naked. The entire room had a subtle glow that had no central source. Everything shone with a weak light. Even the other tables, which also had people laying on them and covered by sheets.

"Damn," someone said from the corner of the room. "Stomach gasses must be building up."

The short doughy looking guy with a much brighter glow walked over and placed his hands on Lillian's chest and knees like he didn't need permission. He pressed on her to force her back down, and Lillian grabbed his wrist.

"What the hell are...," Lillian got out before realizing needed to inhale to finish, but in so doing, caught herself gagging something out.

The man just screamed like a little girl and ran out of the room.

"Serious?" Lillian blurted out, "A woman stops you from being a creeper, and that's how you act?"

And then it hit her. His hands felt warm, but Lillian realized massaging the back of her hands that she lacked that warmth. She went over to the next table and pulled back the sheet.

Flinching, Lillian gasped at seeing hamburger and bits of bone instead of a face. Whoever this person had been, half their body looked like road rash, possibly from a bike and car accident.

On the next table, Lillian found an older woman also dead. "A mortuary?"

"I was dead," Lillian realized aloud, and held her hands to her chest. "I'm-- I'm still dead. I can move, talk, think, but I'm dead."

"She just grabbed me," the man's hysteric shrilling came from the hall beyond the door.

"I'm sure you're exaggerating," came another man's voice.

Then the door opened. Two glowing men, one in a security guard uniform that appeared to be triple-X sized, yet still too small on his round body, just stood there staring.

"I need my cloths," Lillian thought to say, as she reflexively pulled the sheet from the elderly woman's corpse to cover herself.

The guard pulled his gun and in a shaking hand to point almost at her, but not quite. The mortician worker looked between her and the guard, visibly desperate for him to do something.

"Look, just get my stuff and I'll get out of here without any trouble," Lillian offered, "You'll never see me again. I promise."

Unconsciously nodding, the guard holstered his gun and felt his way for the door, unable to tear his eyes off Lillian. The mortician gulped while staring at her.

"Where you going to have him shoot me?" Lillian demanded, shifting in her stance with disapproval.

"I'm sorry," he muttered weakly, holding his hands up clearly wishing her away. "Please, don't eat my brain."

"What?" Lillian yelled.

"Or are you the Romero type?" the man asked, still fearing she could rush him any moment.

"Romero, what's that supposed to mean?" Lillian asked, and then got it after. "Ohh! I'm pretty sure zombies aren't supposed to talk."

"Yeah, okay," he replied, like a kid talking to the monster that crawled out from under his bed. "You feelin' okay?"

"Have to remember to inhale if I wanna say anything," Lillian admitted, "And I'm cold still."

"Innis is getting your clothes," the mortician promised.

"No," Lillian closed her eyes and shook her head, realizing he misunderstood her. "I don't feel too cold, but I don't feel my own body heat. How did I get here?"

"You were delivered by county hospital," the mortician said, "You didn't have any ID and they couldn't find any family, so you were filed as a Jane Doe."

"Nathan," the guard called out, also with a hint of a scream desperate to escape his throat. "I can't find the clothes she came with!"

"I'll be right back," the mortician named Nathan said, pushing his hands out at her as he added, "Just-- don't move. I mean...."

"I get what you mean." Lillian waved him off.

Nathan bolted out, leaving Lillian in the room with the other dead. If she got up why hadn't the others? There weren't any mirrors.

The metal doors and drawers were smooth and glossy enough to offer some kind of reflection. Lillian went to the door to turn the lights on, unsure if she'd need them, and realized they seemed too bright.

Despite that, Lillian went to one of the stainless steel doors to look at herself. Her skin was pale and sunken in around her temples and cheeks. Her eyes, however, were solid black. That wasn't the case with the old woman. As to the biker, there weren't any eyes left to know.

"Ah," Nathan spoke up, and as she turned he laid her things out on the table she woke from. "So, here's your stuff."

"What about my car?" Lillian asked while making sure everything she had on her was still present.

"I... we don't handle that part of patient possessions," Nathan said, and flinched from his own words, "I didn't mean possession as in--."

"What? Like a demon?" Lillian wondered, feeling on a mental level very much herself.

"Is that what happened?" Nathan asked.

"I need privacy," Lillian said, and cast her gaze at the door.

"Sorry," Nathan apologized and ducked low in concession, before he left.

Once he was out of the room Lillian got dressed. She realized someone had washed her clothes multiple times, making her wonder what happened after she lost consciousness.

Fully clothed, Lillian left the room and turned toward where she heard Innis the guard call from earlier. She strode by the security desk that Innis seemed to fill like a sci-fi desert world crime boss.

"Hey," Innis called out to Nathan, who came into view. "Does she need to sign out?"

"I. Don't. Know. Innis," Nathan deliberately replied, his head and hands shaking with disbelief. "I've never had a corpse walk out of here before. Don't ask me shit like that!"

Lillian was pretty sure they'd call someone the once she stepped out the door, and so the moment she was outside she bolted. Everything was brighter, though it was night, especially people. Everyone glowed and appeared not to realize it, everyone except Lillian and the two dead people she woke up next to.

Starlight also offered enough to see by in more rundown streets where many street lights were out. Lillian couldn't recall seeing stars in the city, but there they were now, helping her read street signs.

It was a certainty Lillian couldn't go back to the hospital to find out what happened to her or her car. Though, the gnawing started in her mind, and that man awaited her arrival. Lillian was going to follow through on what she had promised herself.

Knowing her way around the city, Lillian jogged all the way back to his house. Athletic before, and exercise regularly, she didn't sweat and never ran out of breath. In fact, Lillian didn't breathe at all, though her teeth felt weird when her tongue brushed against them. She'd figure that out later.

There it was, and as Lillian saw the time on her phone, she could still do this before most people started waking up. Her original plan wasn't to knock on his door, but to get in from the backdoor. Casing his house, Lillian knew he left it unlocked.

Lightly, she turned the knob on his back door and crept in. She wore her running shoes and leggings in preparation for this, and had an easy time walking into his house without noise. In fact, she never recalled a time when she was quieter, and decided to test something out.

Taking her shoes off, Lillian set them by the back door and found her steps were utterly silent, thinking, 'If this is dead, I'm liking it.'

Even in an unlit house, Lillian had no trouble seeing her way around. Being late winter meant that the heat was on, which Lillian realized was offering her more light to see by. Not a shadow survived under this illumination she hadn't experienced before.

Lillian ascended the stairs to find the second floor was still as the one below. She spotted a hall with four doors and crept up to each to peek in. One was the upstairs bathroom, but the other two were just empty. The last was a master bedroom, and she saw that the man slept in a king size bed alone.

It was time to confront him. Lillian didn't have what she had put in her trunk to do it. Looking at how he lay and lack of unconscious movements, Lillian guessed he was a heavy sleeper. Lightly tugging on his sheets proved that, and so she went to work.

Once finished, and having gotten something from his kitchen, she came back and turned on his bedroom light. "Alright, wake up."

Unbelievably, he didn't stir, so Lillian went to the bed and slapped him hard across the face. So hard in fact, Lillian surprised herself at the loud pop she got, that jolted him up with a start.

"What the--," blasted from his mouth, before seeing her at his bedside. "What's going on? I thought you were dead. Your eyes!"

That last part disturbed him most, Lillian realized, and so she went to the master bathroom mirror to again look at herself. "Yeah, they are weird, huh. Oh, wow..., those are my teeth?"

"Look, I don't know what this is about," the man protested.

"Don't you?" Lillian accused as she whirled around in his bathroom, and then stormed out to hover over him. "You're still going to pretend?"

"Pretend what?" the man cried, tugging on the sheets that she used to tie him down. "What? I don't know what you're talking about!"

"Photos of kids, but no wife?" Lillian prodded, as though that should've reminded him of something.

"I can explain that," the man pleaded.

"Oh, this should be good," Lillian folded her arms with the kitchen knife still in one hand, and waved him on with the other. "Okay, go ahead."

"Look, in workplaces a lot of women post kids to keep male coworkers from flirting with them," he explained, still wringing his wrists.

"And you're doing the same?" Lillian doubted, "Come on."

"No, no," he said, trying to lean up to confess, "I... I did it because I figured a woman might see that I'm okay with kids and maybe take interest in me."

"So that boy who called out when I collapsed," Lillian brought up, "Was he part of the ploy?"

"Ploy?" he repeated, and then visibly recalled, "No, he's just a neighborhood kid who saw you fall. He doesn't look anything like the kid in the stock photo I have. Didn't you see him?"

"So what's it all about?" Lillian offered him his last chance defense.

"I make six figures, but I'm tired of being all about my work," he cried, his redness swelling around his eyes and nose. "I'm lonely, okay! My wife walked out on me thirteen years ago, and I've been missing her ever since."

"So you want a substitute," Lillian surmised, her tone dripping with accusation. "Someone who'll look and act like her, right?"

He just shook his head, looking distant. "No, she's gone. I can't replace her, and I'm not trying to. But I want to be with somebody. I learned not to let my work get in the way."

It crossed Lillian's mind that she was feeling hungry, and that she had no idea how long she was dead before she got up in the mortuary. "What day is it?"

"Thursday," the man answered, his face red from what Lillian thought might be sorrow. "You collapsed three days ago. The police called me yesterday to let me know that you had passed away from unknown causes and wanted to know if I knew you."

"I've been dead three days?" Lillian asked of herself, looking distant.

"Why are you doing this to me?" the man begged.

"You fit a profile," Lillian revealed, "All the ones I find interesting fit a pattern. They're sex hounds, treating their workplace as a hunting ground. Then when the find the woman they want, they show just how abusive and controlling they can be. I thought I got good at picking them out, but I guess sometimes people like you slip through the net."

"Are you some sort of vigilante?" the man asked, sounding less afraid than before.

"I," Lillian rubbed at her neck, sounding uncertain, "guess that works. Though, according to the FBI I'm still considered a serial killer."

"Ohh, shit," the man breathed, his terror replacing the remorse of solitude, and then his tugged at the sheets with desperation. "Help!"

"I can't--," Lillian felt herself flinch as she raised her hands up to stress her point, "I can't kill you the way I want. You won't react right, and... it's ruined. The whole thing's ruined!"

"I won't tell anyone!" he swore with desperation, and nodded too eagerly. "Yeah, there're asshole out there. I get it, I do! But you see what sort of man I am, right? Right?"

"Ow!" Lillian reached for her stomach and felt faint waving at him absently. "Just wait, I'm going to see what you have to eat."

"Sure, sure!" the man's relief swept over his face and body. "Help yourself to anything. It's okay."

It was hard to describe, but Lillian didn't want anything that involved a lot of chewing. Going into his kitchen and opening his fridge, Lillian laid eyes on the perfect thing; milk. "Awh!"

Lillian went through his cupboards until seeing where he kept his glasses, and grabbed the tallest of those. She poured out milk until it spilled over the brim. "Oops!"

More washing over the sides, as she raised it to her lips and tried to drink. It didn't even reach the back of her mouth before Lillian spewed it out, and spat the last traces through her lips. "Ohh! Gawd!"

The mental image of seeing her teeth in the mirror brought it all together. He didn't fit the profile, but Lillian realized that didn't matter to her anymore. He fit a different profile, and that would do.

At a brisk pace, quickened by Lillian's fear she might pass out before getting to him, she strode back into the bedroom. The man had been trying to work loose her knots, when he saw Lillian coming straight for him.

Fiercely, Lillian grabbed his forehead and pushed it to one side, as she climbed onto the bed atop his mostly naked form. However, bending over Lillian realized she couldn't bite him from that angle and moved around much to her discomfort, almost as much as his, while figuring out where to be to make this work.

Lillian gave up, and stepped off the bed. Then, she roughly grabbed his neck from underneath and yanked him over hard. She heard his shoulder pop out of socket, and his scream persisted even after the many curved needle-point hooks that were her teeth sunk into flesh.

'There it is!' rang through her mind as she drink in his blood. 'That's the warmth I've been wanting all night. Yeah, that's just perfect!'

The man's voice went hoarse before it stopped, and his struggles subsided not long after. He still glowed with body head, but Lillian noticed how it darkened by the minute, as she knelt by his bed watching with the last traces of blood running down her lower lip and chin.

"This is what I am now," Lillian said, with an emotionless study of the man's lifeless form. "It's not their hunting ground anymore. They're all prey."


End file.
